


Touch

by uhmelle



Category: kenny omega - Fandom, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 01:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11544975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhmelle/pseuds/uhmelle
Summary: “Thank you for coming to get me.”





	Touch

I sigh at the sight of him and bring him into a quick hug

“Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m a great pal. You ready to go?”

I nod and Kenny takes my backpack from my shoulder and throws it over his own, offering his forearm to me with a dumb little smile. I push it off with a laugh and we set off into the streets of Tokyo.

From the second I started my trip, I’d been dicked over at every turn. A delayed flight, one lay over, clunkily telling the cab driver where I needed to go, and my hotel over booking and giving away my room. I hadn’t slept in 20 hours and I was thisclose to bursting into tears, the woman behind the desk apologizing in English and looking like she wished I would go far, far away.

I sat in the bathroom of the coffee shop next to the hotel and had a good cry, then called the only person I knew who could rescue my pathetic soul in a foreign country. Kenny showed up fifteen minutes later, straight from the gym, and offered me his place without hesitation until I could work out another hotel room. That’s just the kind of guy he is.

The thing about the relationship between me and Kenny is, there is none. We’ve been friends for years, and, sure maybe I’ve had a crush on him since the first time I met him. But it’s not a means to an end. You either hate him or love him, no in between, just varying types of the two. With that, I’m happy to see him flourish, I’m happy to be his friend. The fact that he’s got an ass that won’t quit, and isn’t shy about it, is just an added bonus.

A few hours, some take out, and a couple of rounds of Street Fighter later, I’m experiencing what can only be known as an Omega Bitch Fit. Always the sore loser, expletives tumble from Kenny’s mouth. Not to toot my own horn, I’m no gamer of the year, but Kenny is predictable after so long. When I beat him for the fourth time he’s got his face in his hands for a second, stretching out the skin into something grotesque when he pulls them back.

“One more,” he huffs.

“You just gonna get pissy again?”

He doesn’t look at me. “Play the fucking game.”

Maybe I should have expected it when I still beat him with only a sliver of life left on my health bar, but it takes me by surprise when he knocks me over from my seat beside him on the floor.

“Ty, what the fuck?” I push myself up but he’s got his legs on either side of mine.

“We’re wrestling. You can’t beat me at that shit.”

He puts his hands up but I only bat them away. Honestly, it’s funny more than anything. “I’m not wrestling you because you can’t take a loss.”

“You’re right, you being retired and all. You can’t cut it, that’s fine,” he responds smugly, and though it doesn’t nothing emotionally, I feel the need to turn the tables on him.  
I pitch forward suddenly, taking his hands and pushing him off balance. Then, I’m on top of him, slotted between his legs, his feet almost instinctively locking around my back.

His mouth is open, happy in a laugh but his eyes are warm as they stare up at me. My skin burns at a million degrees against his and my stomach flips when I realize, even through my own laugh, I should move. His smile dulls as my mind races, and his bottom lip comes between his uniform teeth.

I don’t move. Neither does he.

Kenny takes in a breath. “Can I touch you?”

Wrestling is all touching. Being with Kenny is a mixture of shoulder touches and comforting back slaps. But that’s not what he means. My heartbeat speeds up in ways I can’t disguise.

“Yes.”

His long, soft fingers start at the band of my pants, pushing up over my shirt. Thumbs come to smooth across my stomach. Kenny’s eyes follow his deliberate and tentative touch, and I can’t help the way I move into it.

A moment passes in the thick air, and he peaks at me from under his eyebrows. “Anywhere?”

“Yeah, Ty,” I chuckle under my breath.

Like a kid on Christmas he seems nervous at first, but only until he’s gotten the first of his deft fingers slipped under my shirt. The moment he’s gotten a taste unhindered, he’s spreading warmth over my stomach, pushing up my shirt until he can move a curious hand to my pecs. An innocent pass over a nipple, eyes quick to survey my response. I sigh despite myself, goose flesh growing on my arms.

A laugh bubbles out of me, giddiness and nerves like I’m in high school again. Heavy petting except the hands aren’t that of a pimple faced kid from the baseball team who doesn’t really know what he is. Instead those of a confident man, sure in his actions as he asks for what he wants, turning my blood into a bubbling pool.

My friend. Tyson. And I can’t let this moment go.

I change the weight of my body to my left arm, my right coming to just ghost over his fluffed curls. “Can I?”

He laughs, amused, almost nervous. “Have at it.”

It’s soft. So goddamn soft under my touch. I let my fingers wiggle and dig a little deeper, bring my nails to just barely scratch at his scalp. I think I hear him purr, but it could be the blood rushing through my ears. His own hands have wound around to my back, tracing lines and shapes affectionately.

“I’ve always wanted to do this.” I don’t think I should say it but it comes out anyway.

Kenny raises his eyebrow at me. “It’s not really a fair equivalent, is it though?”

“Says you.” The two-toned curls slide through my fingers as I run them from front to back. “This hair is the stuff of legends.”

“Well here,”

His body shifts below mine, then the world tilts and I’m the one on my back. He pushes himself against me, more snuggly than I purposefully had been, and for a moment I swear I have an out of body experience.

Everything had swirled inside of me and rushed south of the border. When I controlled the position, I’d been safe at least. In case, even in our close space, I’d misinterpreted the second base touching and it was just a new way friends say hello. But even through layers of clothing, Kenny’s erection is pressing against me.

“At least get your money’s worth,” Kenny says with a little grin and snakes his hands up my shirt again.

In a second, my hands are buried in his locks. I pay attention to every movement, eager but not rough. Letting a bunch gather in my fingers, pulling them away from his head until they bounce back. Every time a _boing_ sound playing in my head. It would definitely be calming, if it weren’t for the curious Canadian whose gaze keeps flicking from my eyes to my lips, his hands traveling to teasing places.

“You keep staring at my lips,” I tell him quietly, sneaking a look at his own.

My heart leaps a little when the bashful look comes over his face, if only for a second. “I wanted to ask if I could kiss you, but I don’t wanna push my luck.”

He asked, by not asking, which gives me the power, the chance to push the situation in the way I please. Inching farther towards something I’ve wanted in the hidden recesses of myself. If I take it.

I free one hand from his hair and slide it down to cup his jaw, my thumb smoothing along his cheek. The moment drawing out, only filled with our breath. I lean in and take his waiting lips in mine, caution out the window, fear forgotten.

Well, not _totally_ forgotten. But casually, jokingly, romantically, I’ve never had the pleasure of kissing Kenny. His lips are soft as they part slightly, giving only as much force as he’s receiving. My heart seems to stop as his hand runs up my side, comes all the way up to place support at the nape of my neck. It’s quick, only a couple of seconds of our mouths touching, but it feels like we eternity.

I resist the urge to dredge for more and deepen the kiss, pulling away enough to see him open his eyes. Soft and hazy, the way he looks after a match when the adrenaline drains away and he’s left just feeling for his craft, but there’s the slightest up turn of his lips.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” I ask.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a second. “A long time. Maybe a year.”

“What did it?” My brain almost itches with peaked curiosity. A year _is_ a long time.

“I don’t know-” He turns over, taking his warmth and weight with him as he lays on his back, an arm under his head and a thoughtful look on his face. “The last time I was in the states. Your nose was bleeding like a sieve through the whole match and you still finished. And then two hours later you beat four of us in Mario Kart.”

I got stiffed that night by some asshole, and I didn’t think much of it other than I could taste blood and Kenny kept asking if I was okay. Didn’t realize ‘til later I looked like night of the living dead. I laugh, letting myself feel the moment, and turn on my side to face him. His tongue comes out as he stares at the ceiling, wetting this top lip and bringing them in to press between his teeth.

If I’d known, I would have kissed him then. I would have taken that face into my hands, pushed those ridiculous curls out of his face, and took his lips like my life depended on it. These thoughts do nothing for the straining annoyance in my pants or the pitter patter of my third grade heart.

Kenny turns to match my position after a moment of contemplation. “How long for you?”

It’s an embarrassing thought, and lying crosses my mind for just a split second before my mouth is blurting out, “As long as I’ve known you.”

The heat radiates on my cheeks as I turn my forehead into my own palm. A small groan escapes me, again, against my own better judgment. But he’s laughing, hand coming over to pry my shameful head from its hide away. Nerves churn my stomach but still I follow his touch. He brings his body close to mine, curling his fingers under my chin. Our lips are together in the next second in the little awkward pose, both of us propped up on our arms while the other softly touches.

Kenny’s cupped hand finds my cheek. I can’t help the curiosity, his touch has been all over me, familiar warm places. Places I’d wanted and hadn’t thought of, and I’d been a massive nub who touched…his hair.

Thankfully still unthinking, I skip over taking his lead, instead putting fingers at the hem of his shirt before pushing under. His only acknowledgment of my move is his deepening of the kiss, his tongue teasing at my lips. He explores my mouth languidly, making me sigh int him. Still the slightest tang from dinner on his palette, but it’s the last thing that would stop me.

I push down, hand coming to rest confidently on the swell of his ass. Genetics gave him something working out only enhanced to the nth degree; it’s privilege to knead it, firm like jello under my touch. The motion forces us closer together, something electric in my nerves as his cock presses into me again. By their own accord my hips roll into his, animalistic need to release the tension in myself.

Out of breath, Kenny pulls away from me, faintest smile on his lips. “Whoa there, mister. Something you might not know about me, I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Neither do I.” I reluctantly vacate the meat of his ass, instead laying my hand on the warm skin of his lower back. “Especially not for take out burgers.”

“Oh what, filet minot to get into these golden shorts?” He asks with an eyebrow raised.

“I was just thinking a few real dates.”

Kenny seems to consider it for a second, then kisses my cheek. “Deal.”


End file.
